From Tech Expert to Amplifier

How I stopped being “the smartest person in the room” and started creating rooms that are smart together

The Beginning

If you glanced at my college transcript, you might assume this story begins in a drafting studio. Residential architecture was my first love. I didn’t have the language then for what drew me in, but I do now: function and purpose layered with an intentional aesthetic experience. A building has to stand, serve, and shape how people feel when they walk through it. That tension—structure plus experience—has been the throughline of my entire career.

I didn’t become an architect. Instead, I pivoted into business and eventually earned a master’s in organizational communication—choices that looked like sharp left turns but ultimately gave me the two languages I still speak every day: how humans organize and make decisions, and how technology actually works. Early in my tech roles, others noticed my ability to translate between deeply technical teams and business leaders before I noticed it in myself. I could sit with network engineers and then walk down the hall to explain the story to a CFO without losing anyone along the way.

My first decade unfolded at a major networking company from 1997 to 2007—routers, data centers, and a brand-new thing called the internet. Then came the telephony shift: voice riding on data networks. Suddenly, I was facilitating peace talks between “the phone people” and “the data people.” Later, I moved into the emerging collaboration space, helping shape the early generation of smart-room and meeting technologies. Across all of it, I played the same role: bridge builder, translator, convener of cross-functional worlds that don’t naturally speak to each other.

But consulting has limits. You can influence, but only from the outside. I craved being part of a healthy culture where transformation could actually take root. In 2015, I joined Progressive Insurance, drawn by its genuinely human-centered approach to collaboration and problem-solving.

A few years later—right before COVID—leaders in the organization asked me to stand up a new enterprise-level forum focused on cross-functional alignment around technology and readiness. They saw something in me I hadn’t fully named yet: the way I convene people and help them see the whole picture. Four weeks later, the world shut down. That forum became a critical space for helping tens of thousands of people transition to remote work, and my role evolved from technologist who can talk to humans into someone who designs environments where people can have real, candid conversations about value, risk, and possibility.

Looking back, I now see the pattern clearly: I grew up professionally on the edges of market disruptions—early internet infrastructure, unified communications, modern collaboration, and now AI. The constant wasn’t the tools. It was facilitating transformation. It was designing temporary worlds—sessions, rhythms, and forums—where function meets experience. Where people can tell the truth, get energized about possibility, and challenge what’s unclear. Those rooms—not me—are where the real intelligence lives.

Finding Myself in “Professional Facilitator”

The moment I thought, “Oh… I’m a facilitator,” happened during the pandemic. I read Priya Parker’s The Art of Gathering, and when she used the phrase “professional facilitator,” something clicked deep in my nervous system. I had been doing this work for years without naming it. Suddenly, the pattern was undeniable: I wasn’t organizing meetings; I was designing human experiences.

Around that time, I helped redesign a complex technology-evaluation process at my company. We needed to make something high-stakes feel human and workable—because governance isn’t exactly everyone’s happy place. I reached out to partners at MURAL and eventually connected with a facilitator from Voltage Control. Together, we built DWG World, a visual journey—a game board—for how innovation moves through a large enterprise. Playful but rigorous. And it changed the way people engaged. The visual space leveled hierarchy, clarified expectations, and made the invisible visible.

That project awakened something in me. I began paying attention to how I opened and closed spaces, the rituals we practiced, and how the “feel” of a room shaped outcomes. The more intentional I became, the more ROI those rooms produced—more candor, better attendance, decisions people could live with, and a reputation for “that meeting felt different.” I knew I wanted to deepen the craft.

The Leap Toward Voltage Control

My manager nudged me: “You haven’t invested in yourself for a while. Take a class. Grow.” That kind of support gave me permission to pursue something that had been tugging at me for years.

Voltage Control immediately stood out. In tech, you learn quickly that your digital storefront builds trust—and Voltage’s digital storefront radiated clarity, sophistication, and humanity. Combined with a positive previous collaboration, it felt like a natural next step. Compared to traditional conferences, the depth and value were incomparable.

I applied to the Core Certification and was thrilled when I was accepted. It aligned perfectly with where my career was heading: from technologist to facilitator of enterprise-level transformation. I wanted language, frameworks, community, and accountability around what I had been doing intuitively. I wanted to be not just effective—but artful.

Language for What I’d Been Doing All Along

Core delivered exactly that. Concepts like facilitator presence, purpose-first design, and group process leadership weren’t abstract—they were mirrors. They validated what I already knew and opened new vistas. Like hiking in Colorado: one moment you’re in the trees, and suddenly you’re above the treeline with a panoramic view.

The community component surprised me most. Facilitators inside large organizations can feel isolated—embedded everywhere but rarely gathered. Voltage’s buddy system changed that. My buddies in Core and Master became the people I could share ideas with, test new methods, and even whisper insecurities to: “Am I overengineering this?” The program wasn’t built to center the instructors; it was built to center community. That energy intensified at the Voltage Summit, and I left with genuine friendships that continue to anchor my life and work.

Voltage also deepened my facilitator presence. People often tell me I create psychological safety, and I take that seriously. During COVID, I developed rituals—music at the top, warm check-ins, conversational flow, and a closing dad joke. Those rituals held us together. But after losing both of my parents within four months, I learned that presence isn’t a switch—it’s a practice. It requires self-regulation, humility, and honesty about when you’re not able to hold space for others. Voltage—and books like Standing in the Fire—gave me tools to navigate that season.

I also loosened my grip on content. My job is often to design the container, not fill it.

From Orchestrator to Amplifier

If there’s one word that captures the shift in me after certification, it’s trust. Facilitation at scale is the slow, steady work of building trust—with leaders, with teams, and across silos. The more I trust the room, the more the room trusts itself. And then something remarkable happens: a temporary group becomes a high-performing team right in front of you.

Midway through the Core program, I was asked to facilitate alignment between senior leaders and deeply experienced domain experts on the pace of digital transformation—especially as AI began reshaping familiar boundaries. It was a room filled with thoughtful, seasoned voices who each carried valuable history and perspective. I used a Voltage Problem-Solving one-pager to create a shared structure: those who needed space to surface the core challenges had it, and those eager to move toward outcomes could clearly see the path forward. The artifact helped anchor the conversation and build confidence in the process. By the end, what started as a set of differing viewpoints shifted into genuine alignment. Several people asked, “What did you do? Can you teach me?”

The feedback I value most now is simple: “I’ve never had a meeting like this.”

Practices like check-ins, check-outs, naming purpose upfront, and designing for inclusion seem soft until you watch them unlock hard outcomes. The way a group works together becomes as important as the work itself. That combination—function, purpose, and aesthetic experience—is still my fuel.

What I’m Building Next

The biggest shift Voltage catalyzed is moving from expert to amplifier. In an AI-enabled world, knowledge is increasingly democratized. My job isn’t to walk in with the answer—it’s to create the conditions where the best answer can emerge from the room.

My company has invested deeply in my development, and they’ve asked me to multiply that impact. My Master capstone is a community of practice for facilitators inside the organization—called FacilitateX. I’ve gathered ten practitioners to co-design the blueprint: the charter, identity, operating model, and launch strategy. If stars align, we’ll bring Voltage in to help embed the competencies we value most. This isn’t tucked away in HR; it’s elevating facilitation as a strategic leadership capability.

At the same time, the governance forum I built in 2020 has become a model other groups reference and adapt. We recently applied the same principles to support responsible adoption of emerging technologies—diverse voices, clear cadences, transparent artifacts, and human-centered experience. It’s the same core belief: well-designed spaces help people think better together.

Looking ahead five years, I see a multiplier effect—a network of strong facilitators who can support integration efforts, digital transformation, and culture work. In an AI-accelerated world, alignment is oxygen. AI becomes our companion, not a replacement, freeing us to design experiences that feel both humane and effective. And personally? I see myself continuing to be a relational strategist, building trust across the enterprise, helping people say, “That felt different—and it worked.”

Closer + Call to Action

If you’re facilitation-curious—or you’ve been doing the work without naming it—Voltage Control will crack something open in you. It did for me. Core gave me language and community. Master is sharpening my presence and shifting me from orchestrator to amplifier. If you enjoy being comfortably uncomfortable, like an athlete training for the next season, this is your place.

My encouragement:

• Invest in the craft.
• Design the experience, not just the agenda.
• Practice self-regulation as much as you practice methods.
• Find your people—buddies, mentors, peers who reflect you back to yourself and laugh at your dad jokes.

Because at the end of the day, the smartest person in the room is the room. If you’re ready to help create those rooms—and be changed by them—come join us. I’ll see you in the circle. Bring a good but terrible dad joke too.